


Adaptation

by nhasablog



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, No Dialogue, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 05:31:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6787459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nhasablog/pseuds/nhasablog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony was a man who knew how to adapt, but that didn’t necessarily mean that he would ever get used to kissing Steve goodmorning, goodnight, goodbye for now. He would never get used to Steve’s hand finding his, their fingers intertwined in a secret promise. He would never get used to it, and he would never take it for granted. Not the best thing to have happened to him in ages. Not this. Not him.</p>
<p>(Or, Tony learns to adapt to the change of living with the Avengers, and then later on to the change of being with Steve.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Adaptation

**Author's Note:**

> Please make sure to read the tags of this because it's got some warnings in them.
> 
> I got challenged to write a fic with no dialogue, so here's the finished result. I hope you like this incoherent mess. Also posted on my tumblr nhasablog.tumblr.com

If Tony was anything he was a man who knew how to adapt. Times changed constantly, and in order to simply survive he’d always needed to follow those changes almost religiously. Whether it was about business or life in general, Tony Stark wasn’t a stranger to moving forward, even if it meant leaving something important behind. Important to him, at least. He’d lost count of how many times he’d been forced to make that sort of sacrifice. You’d think he’d stop getting attached at this point.

Despite being an expert at adapting, it didn’t always mean that he liked it, and in some rare cases he followed along with the turning tide and realized that it’d been a stupid idea. Sometimes he did what he knew was right even though he didn’t necessarily want to, and at one point he even let his home be infiltrated by superheroes and super spies and gods because he knew that it would be a lot easier if they all lived in close vicinity to each other, and the Stark Tower was large enough to work as an apartment complex. This he didn’t really mind, but there were moments where he questioned everything he thought he knew while living with this group of maniacs.

He watched helplessly as Clint devoured most of the coffee each morning; causing everything to go helter-skelter once Thor realized before any of the Avengers had even opened their eyes properly. He watched helplessly as Nat and Steve sparred; causing him to worry that they would somehow end up hurting each other. He watched helplessly as everyone stayed clear of Bruce just in case they would anger him; causing Tony to ache for his new friend. He watched helplessly as he fell in love with them all.

They made mistakes and could sometimes be mean, just like him. Those little quirks of theirs became Tony’s favorite things, and he was suddenly terrified that he would have to give them all up one day. Why oh why did he always get so attached?

Steve was in the room with him, but they weren’t speaking. There was something about Steve that made Tony want to try even harder to make this superhero thing work. Something about his priorities, courage, and will to keep going inspired Tony after each battle, even though he rarely wanted to admit it.

After all, Tony wasn’t one to admit things.

But he knew lots of things deep down, and yet he went on denying them from himself and everyone around him. That had always been his thing. No, he wasn’t scared of his father. No, he wasn’t relying on alcohol. No, he didn’t run away from his problems. All the while a voice in the back of his head kept yelling that it was all lies, lies, lies, but it got ignored each time.

He didn’t know if he could keep ignoring this particular voice though.

As he looked at Steve, almost marvelled at his profile, he muted the voice and observed the way Steve looked at the television. He wasn’t examining it, like one would think, but was simply watching whatever was on. It seemed that for once Steve Rogers let himself fully relax, and Tony was honored that it was happening under his roof. God knows Steve needed it.

God knows Tony admired it.

Steve noticed his gaze and turned to meet it, questioningly at first, amusedly at second. Tony attempted a smile, but he wasn’t sure if it had come out as anything resembling what he was currently feeling. It didn’t seem to matter. Steve smiled back and turned his world upside down. He didn’t even know it.

The following month was rough. Battle after battle, fight after fight. Sleepless nights and fingers itching to grab that bottle. Guilt, guilt, guilt. Regret, regret, regret. And yet Steve always smiled at him, albeit briefly, unreciprocated. He always smiled.

Tony could never let go of the day’s hardships before he’d seen that smile. Steve knew it. The rest of the team knew it. No one said a word about it.

Tony was a little bit in love with them all, but Steve was the only one allowed to see him in the state he was in that night when he found him sitting alone in the dark kitchen; a glass of lemon water in front of him.

Substitute, he told him. Steve understood.

He sat with him until the early hours, but they didn’t talk about why Tony had been sitting there in the first place. They didn’t need to. It didn’t matter in that moment. Nothing mattered more than Steve’s mouth on his own, which he got the taste of just before sunrise. Just before the world woke up and they were forced to deal with everything again. Nothing mattered more than Steve’s body against his.

Tony was a man who knew how to adapt, but that didn’t necessarily mean that he would ever get used to kissing Steve goodmorning, goodnight, goodbye for now. He would never get used to Steve’s hand finding his, their fingers intertwined in a secret promise. He would never get used to it, and he would never take it for granted. Not the best thing to have happened to him in ages. Not this. Not him.

Every morning after a mission was the same. People either slept in or had barely slept at all and could be found sitting in the exact same spot where Tony had left them. Immobile, like objects. Tony could usually always mend broken objects. He couldn’t fix people.

The first morning with Steve was something else. He couldn’t pinpoint how he was feeling. He was nervous yet at ease. Giddy yet calm. Waking up to Steve’s face, his ruffled hair, his bare skin wasn’t something he’d ever thought he’d experience. He knew he didn’t deserve it, but he took the moment and claimed it as his own anyway. He’d always been selfish. Why stop now?

With a laugh, Steve wondered what he was staring at. Tony didn’t want to say, because he knew that his reply would be too forward. He couldn’t let Steve know that he was staring at the most beautiful sight in the world.

So of course Steve then demanded rather than asked. Tony still refused. He didn’t expect his nimble fingers to be so lethal once they found his sensitive spots.

With knowledge that one could only obtain from experience, Steve reached out to attack Tony’s upper body with his fingertips; making him writhe around in ticklish surprise. It was fun; letting himself succumb completely to Steve’s playful touch. He had never really allowed himself to do that before, with the exception of Rhodey’s rare yet effective attempts at making him calm down.

Truth be told, when Steve was the one touching him it didn’t really matter in what way it was, as long as it didn’t hurt. Even if it hurt he knew one small part of him would still beg for it to never stop. Steve was worth that pain.

In the end he didn’t end up telling him what he’d been staring at, but it became a bit of a habit after that; to engage in tickle fights that eventually resulted in tangled limbs and racing hearts. Tony never knew what he’d done to deserve it. Probably nothing. He only told Steve this when he was caught in a vulnerable moment. Steve never let him go to bed believing that again.

Tony knew how to adapt, so when Steve was away on a mission he taught himself to not see the absence of a body next to him on the bed as a bad thing, but more as a promise of a future reunion. It backfired. If Steve was away longer than expected he would start freaking out. Maybe humans weren’t supposed to be able to adapt to everything. At least not if the things were only temporary.

All he knew was that when Steve returned to him, or when he returned to Steve, his whole being relaxed and everything was finally okay again. Maybe that was how you knew a person was right for you. They felt like a shelter and an adventure at the same time.

That evening was a mess of loud conversations, smashing glasses and overly exhausted laughter. Tony hadn’t seen Steve in three days and refused to detach himself from his side. He always got too attached. Always, always, always. He could only hope that it wouldn’t be something he’d regret this time around.

Taking one look around the room, Tony marvelled at how much he loved those people. He would never tell them, of course. Not with words. Only Steve got to hear it. The others would have to figure it out by themselves.

As the evening transformed into night, Tony and Steve replaced the chaos of the living room with the peacefulness of the bedroom. Skin on skin, mouth on mouth, souls as one. All was good, all was good, all was good.


End file.
